The Seven Sins of Domesticity
by RosylaGypsy
Summary: It is said that one should choose their friends wisely, for one cannot choose their family. Heroes can't choose their friends - so what does that make them? Series of seven drabbles, mostly gen, some AA and JT.
1. Envy

**And so begins my first venture into the trials and tribulations of the COTT gang. Woot.**

**I don't own it. Period.**

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**Envy**

It had been what Jay liked to call a Bad Day. Archie, by contrast, was more inclined to call it The Day A Thousand Millennia In Tartarus Could Never Compare To. What? He read a little poetry now and then.

Well, they'd had a fight with Cronus. Again. And the god of stupid portals and bad hair had escaped. _Again_. Seriously, the guy needed a hobby. Jay did too, come to think of it. And the rest of them needed a nice, long holiday.

To make matters worse, Odie was hogging all the post-battle Atlanta-snuggles. Just because they both had a concussion, the smaller boy was living up to Odysseus' sneaky genes and taking the opportunity to steal Archie's boyfriend benefits. He'd bet his ankle brace the genius was only _pretending_ to be asleep, and was secretly enjoying the murderous glare Archie had been aiming at him for the past two hours.

"Archie? The hell's the matter with you?"

The warrior was startled out of his inner grumbling by the object of their (admittedly somewhat one-sided) conflict. He glanced away sheepishly. "Nothing."

Atlanta rolled her eyes, then patted the space beside her that wasn't otherwise occupied. His manly pride objected to the compromise, but her sleep-mussed hair, dirty clothes and fondly exasperated smile was entirely too good to pass up. Since they'd all had a Bad Day, he could contend with sharing _just this once_. But never, ever again.

Archie's last thought before drifting off to sleep, pressed up against Atlanta's back with two faint heartbeats ringing in his ears, was that Achilles and Odysseus probably hadn't been too bothered with sharing at all, regardless of who was in the middle. Greeks were pretty flexible.

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**Yes, this is random. Forgive me, randomness is my first language, though I do dabble in eccentricity and abstractness. If you get anything out of this, positive or negative, please let me know.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Wrath

**A great big thank you to my reviewers thus far (Ranta, 4evacrazy and Thunder-Handicapy-Godess), for I am a vain creature and praise is my lifeblood :)****. I am also quite a careless creature, for it was pointed out to me that some less-than-nice language warranted a T rating, which is probably a good idea considering some of the mature themes that might come up. So anyhow, this fic will now be rated T to be on the safe side.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

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**Wrath**

When Archie and Atlanta fought, it was like listening to a pair of siblings (sexual tension aside). Their tousles were loud, boisterous, and often resulted in things getting broken. The others had learned by now to roll their eyes and ignore them, though it was sometimes more amusing to sit down and observe with a bowl of popcorn. Besides, after a good punch or two, they were best friends again, and everything was just dandy.

When Jay and Theresa fought, it was a different matter altogether. More like listening to Mom and Dad on the brink of divorce. It was a time when the others lounged in awkward silence and tried not to listen to the low, venomous hiss of the leader and the psychic's voices in the next room. Like parents, they tried to keep their discord under wraps and appear responsible and controlled in front of the kiddies, but it was impossible to ignore.

As the hiss began to escalate into a roar, Herry shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Archie and Atlanta glanced at each other, then turned unseeing eyes back to the skateboard magazine between them. Odie ducked his head and cranked up the volume on his iPod.

Neil sighed and subtly shifted closer to the others. He hoped Jay and Theresa would get to the inevitable make-up make-out session before the neighbours started complaining.

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**Sorry if this seems a little OOC – I know that Jay is usually Mr Calm and Collected, but it has been shown once or twice that even he can quake under pressure (i.e. Dreamweaver). And Theresa has quite a prominent temper, as we all know. So, this is just one example of those times when tempers clash.**


	3. Pride: Part 1

**Okay, I am **_**hopeless**_** with structure. Originally, **_**Sins**_** was going to be a short series of seven short drabbles (say, less than 300 words each). However, this particular drabble refused to stay put at 300, and is still going. Thus, I have decided to halve it to at least put up the pretense of structure. Sorry if this annoys anyone as much as it annoys me.**

**A big thankyou to all my reviewers is in order, as always. Thankyou!!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

**Pride – Part 1**

And so, once again, Neil was the #1 most hated person on the team. Not that _that_ was anything new.

"I seriously don't get you, Neil."

He studied his nails unconcernedly. They were in desperate need of a manicure. "Careful Archie, you might hurt yourself trying," he said sarcastically, then mentally slapped himself. Being snarky, however satisfying, was not the key to redemption here.

Theresa took the next swing. "Why did you have to take a look in that stupid mirror at exactly that moment, huh? We could have all died!"

Like that was anything new either. Theresa was just mad that her precious Little Mermaid hair now looked more like Pippi Longstocking's, had Pippi been especially careless with the toaster. Still, he thought it best not to mention that. "I couldn't help it," he whined.

His words were met with a collective eye-roll. He sighed and tried again. "Look, I'm sorry your hair got – um, a little burnt, and that Jay got tossed against the wall by the fire-thingies . . ."

"Elementals," Odie supplied from his carefully neutral position on the sofa. He had been keeping his eyes off Theresa for the past couple of hours to avoid cracking up.

". . . But it's not my fault I have to look good!"

Atlanta sighed irritably. "Neil, it's called self-restraint. Why do you have to be so selfish all the time?"

"Yeah?" Archie chimed in, eager to support his girlfriend.

Ok, that stung a little. Neil frowned and folded his arms. "It's true, I can't help it. It hurts to try!"

Oddly enough, Archie blinked in surprise and didn't offer a retort. The girls, however, looked as mad as ever. He half-expected Theresa to go all purple and see-through, so extreme was her rage. "You are so useless," she screamed.

It was at around this time that Jay would usually intervene, telling them to back off and let Neil be Neil, however annoying that person may be. It was Jay who'd tell Theresa that the gods will be able to fix her hair in a split second and have her believe him. Unfortunately, Jay was currently lying in his room with a mild concussion, and it was Neil's fault.

Suddenly, the word useless actually seemed to matter.

**Next part should be up within a day or so. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Pride: Part 2

**Here we are, part two. Like I said, it's too long for a drabble, and I'm not sure I even like it, but there you go. Please tell me what you think.**

**Thankyou, esteemed reviewers of great generosity. You rock.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it.**

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**Pride: Part Two**

"Neil, quit ignoring me. I didn't come up here to fight."

Silence. He wasn't sulking. He was experimenting.

Every speck of dirt on his golden hair and designer clothes, every blemish that marred his perfection, burned like acid. His ruined nails were giving him a migraine. Across the room, lying open on the floor from where he'd flung it, his mirror was practically weeping in horror.

It was an interesting experience.

An impatient sigh. "Look, what Theresa said wasn't fair – even if she was right – but did you mean what you said downstairs? About not being able to help looking in your mirror?"

He peered at the warrior lounging awkwardly in the doorway. "Why?"

"Just say."

Neil shrugged. "Yeah. It's in my highly attractive, useless genes. Like luck. You wouldn't understand."

There was a long pause, in which Archie fidgeted and Neil did not pick up his mirror.

Then, quietly, "I think maybe I do. Not about the mirror thing," he added hurriedly. "I mean like, ancestral flaws."

"Like aquaphobia and a dodgy ankle?"

"Not exactly."

"Are you "special friends" with your male cousin?"

"What? No! Look, would you just listen?"

"If I really must."

"Whatever." He hesitated. "You know, Achilles had this thing called menis. Ever heard of it?"

Neil frowned. "Is that a type of bread?"

Archie rolled his eyes. "It's a type of rage, you idiot. It's where he basically became like, _really_ angry and killed a lot." He looked down. "Sometimes, I get angry. During battle, or even just bumping into people at school. Just for a second, I get the urge to – to hurt things. And you know what he worst part is? It's not my fault. I don't know what I'm capable of, but I know what Achilles was, and it wasn't pretty. Because of him, I have to be scared of myself."

Another long, brooding pause. Abruptly, Neil said, "I haven't looked in the mirror in two hours and forty three minutes."

"I thought you couldn't help it?"

"I can't," he giggled, a bit hysterically. "But I'm doing it anyway."

Archie stared. "So what, you ignore yourself for a little while, and go insane?" He shook his head. "Destiny is messed up."

"Tell me about it." He rubbed his eyes wearily. Suddenly, a small metal object collided with his forehead. "Oww, what gives?"

He looked down at the mirror, felt the burning intensify, and flinched.

"Give it up, Neil. You can't help being a selfish pretty boy –"

"But . . ."

" – And we can't help but _need_ that selfish pretty boy. The others don't always understand it, but some things, you just can't help."

He blinked. Looked at the mirror. Looked at Archie.

"You'd make a terrible therapist."

Archie smirked. "You're welcome, Neil."

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**Thank wiki for the Achilles rage reference. I swear the next one will be less of a soap opera. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Sloth

**Um, yeah. I wrote this while I was supposed to be doing _my_ psychology experiment. I'm not sure if it really works, but I'll let you lot be the judge of that. Yes, it's another long one. We'll just pretend the concept of "drabble" is relative, eh? One reason I'm particularly annoyed with this is because this site doesn't have the strikethrough function. Thus, as this is supposed to resemble a hand-written report, all radom/inappropriate notes will be in _bold italics._ Sorry, you'll just have to use your imaginations.**

**Thankyou, thankyou, THANKYOU reviewers! You make my life worth living :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but psychological speculations about this strange cartoon tribe.**

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Sloth

**Aim:** Critically analyse _**teenage descendants of Greek heroes**_ a group of teenagers while they are under the influence of Saturday Morning Sloth Syndrome.

**Hypothesis:** When under the influence of SMSS (see above), adolescents are at their most natural, unguarded state, thus allowing a more in-depth insight into their lives.

**Place of Experiment:** Kitchen table, the Brownstone. Sunny spot, easy view of the doorway and kitchen.

**Materials:**

- Stack of pancakes with maple syrup **_Thanks Athena_**

- Hot chocolate

- Clipboard & pen

- Wristwatch

**Findings:**

9:00 – 9:33 – Silence. Everyone still in bed.

9:33 – Sounds of movement from upper storey. Heavy footsteps coming downstairs. **_Herry_** Subject Brawn enters kitchen. Makes a groggy beeline for the fridge. Response to cheery greeting is nonsensical and monosyllabic, a classic symptom of SMSS. Resurfaces from fridge clutching a full 3L carton of (orange?) juice. Downs juice in four gulps, aims empty carton at trash can but narrowly misses Observer. Is surprised and apologetic, grunts a greeting, trudges back upstairs.

9:41 – More sounds of movement. Water running through the pipes.

9:45 – Piercing shriek echoes through house. Door slams. **_Ther-_** Subject Red makes an appearance, wearing only a towel,_ **water dripping down her skin, towel is drooping slightly**_ Red shrieks again, this time at Subject Blonde, who has just entered. They have a fight about the hot water (specifically, Blonde's over-use of it). Red storms off, Blonde greets Observer, gets pancakes.

9:56 – Front door slams open. Enter Subject Speed and Subject Heel, back from an early morning run. They argue. Race to kitchen. Squabble over pancakes. Push each other around. Squabble over milk. _**Flirt outrageously**_ Blonde makes lewd comment, Speed retaliates violently. Both squabble over potential shower, abandon breakfast to race upstairs.

9:58 – Blonde pulls out mirror and preens.

10:00 – Blonde preens.

10:00 – Blonde preens – Subject _**Leader? Sword? Obsessive?**_ Jay (will change later) enters kitchen, yawns. Greets Observer and Blonde, makes a cup of (tea?), sits down, makes amiable conversation.

10:05 – Red comes into kitchen, smiles at Jay, glares at Blonde. Blonde offers to lend her his mascara as a peace offering, _**that is just weird**_. She considers then agrees _**wtf??**_ Jay looks nervous. Asks if they share lipstick too.

10:07 – Brawn re-enters, marginally more awake. Makes breakfast, _**accidentally squashes toaster again**_.

10:10 – Speed races into kitchen, hides behind Observer's chair. Heel follows, dripping wet, very cranky. They chase each other around the kitchen table for a bit.

10:14 – Everyone eating breakfast. SMSS is slowly wearing off, but subjects are still exhibiting strange behaviour, possibly—

"Hey Odie, what's this?"

"Archie! Give it back, it's my psychology experiment."

"You're doing a psychology experiment on _us?!_"

"What?! That can't be ethical!"

"Did you write about my good looks?"

"Man, _The Heel_ is a sensitive subject!"

"Gimme a look!"

Odie sighed and decided to declare this a failed experiment. His friends were crazy no matter what time of the day it was.

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**Thanks for reading. Sorry if this is just too weird, I was striving for originality (and it struck me as an Odie thing to do.)**


	6. Gluttony

_**Sorry for not updating for a while . . . I would use the excuse of homework, which should be true, but isn't slaps hand bad me. Anyway, your reviews on the last chapter were amazing, so thankyou, thankyou, thankyou (x10000000). Forgive me if Herry is a little stereotyped here, cause it always annoys me when he is portrayed as the stupid pig as opposed to sweet, caring and totally kick-ass. I think he has a lot more potential. But this was Gluttony, so I tried to show both sides of him. Also, I'm not much of a pizza technician, so some of this might be a tad bit implausible; again, my apologies.**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

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**Gluttony**

In the Gospel According to Herry, Friday night was Pizza Night. He thought it was much better than Neil's Gospel, which named it as The Night Athena Gets Sick Of Wasting Her Divine Culinary Skills On A Bunch Of Undeserving Teenagers And Goes On Strike Until Saturday. When it came to food, Herry liked to keep things as simple as possible.

Regardless of its title, however, there was no denying that Pizza Night was an important part of their weekly routine. As much as Herry appreciated Athena (not to mention her amazing cooking), it was nice to pretend for one night that they were normal, grease-loving adolescent slobs who warred over Hawaiian and Meat-lovers as opposed to mythological monsters.

Even when said mythological monsters decided to attack on Friday and they had to move Pizza Night to Saturday instead. It wasn't the same, but nothing was worth going a week without pizza for.

Tonight was just like any other Pizza Night (on a Friday too, which was a bonus). Archie and Atlanta had their usual war over who could think of the most bizarre toppings, while Neil and Theresa each tried to be the pickiest. Odie usually alternated between mushrooms and anchovies (tonight he was having both) while Herry started at extra large with extra cheese and went from there. Jay, as usual, attempted to take down orders for the first thirty seconds before scrawling down an Ozzie with extra cheese and throwing the notepad to the pack of hungry hyenas.

They went through a lot of notepads.

By the end of the night everyone had had some of everything and woke up with a pizza hangover the next morning. Herry suspected that the reason Athena forgave them all so quickly every Saturday was because they all looked so pathetic sprawled over each other in the lounge room with the _Scary Movie_ credits (or _Love Actually_, depending on whether Archie or Theresa passed out first) rolling on the TV. But, pathetic or no, that was probably Herry's favourite part.

Except when Neil didn't finish his pizza. After all, in Herry's Gospel, nothing should go to waste.

**_Thanks for reading!_**


	7. Greed

_**Sorry for such a long wait. I struggled a bit with this one, since I've sort of neglected Theresa before this, and I'm not sure if I've gotten her voice right. It's another soap-opery one, since the last couple have been more humourous (at least I hope so).**_

_**My gratitude for those who review is boundless. Thankyou, one and all!**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

**Greed**

Theresa was a Rich Girl. She had everything and wanted more. Clothes, accessories, credit cards, rich friends . . . she was in endless supply of all these and then some. All valuable. All replaceable.

When it finally came to pass that she lost something and couldn't buy another one, it was a painful reality check. A mother wasn't supposed to die. She wasn't allowed to just disappear and leave nothing but a suddenly distant father and a bunch of expensive, shiny, _empty_ things behind. It shouldn't be real, but it was.

She decided then that she didn't like reality. It was much safer in her own little fantasy world.

She had _no_ idea.

Then came the next big shock to change her perspective on life. Suddenly, she had a job to do. She no longer lived in a mansion. She didn't wear different designer outfits every day. She had friends who weren't paid for. It was different, but kind of nice. Even worth the butt-load of danger and monsters that came with it. She even fooled herself for a while into thinking that she didn't want anything else, could be happy with what she had.

But it wasn't in a Rich Girl's nature to be satisfied so easily, any more than it was to not be a good fighter or a psychic.

She began to want other things. A normal life. A boyfriend who could look at her and see more than just a valuable, untouchable tool. And when she finally realized that had enough power to get those things, she began to want more of that too.

For one moment of incredible, exhilarating terror, she saw the true price of having everything, and was tempted to pay it. She almost did.

But then her friends had shown her there were some things you couldn't buy. Forgiveness. Acceptance. Trust.

He gave her his love.

Somehow, Jay can see them as friends and not weapons. Herry can be gentle. Archie can work with people rather than against them. Atlanta can be dependant. Odie can curb his need for 

knowledge in order to use it properly. Neil can care about people other than himself. If they can go against their nature for the sake of each other, why can't she?

Theresa decides that now is the time to stop wanting, and start making the best of what she has. Because truthfully, she has more than enough.

She has a team.


	8. Lust: Special Edition

_**Well, here we are. The seventh sin. And it's practically a novel on introspection, so I'll say bye-bye to the drabble theory along with my story. I'm seriously worried about Neil's characterisation here, so I'd appreciate your input one last time.**_

_**Speaking of, each and every one of you deserves a deluxe chocolate basket delivered by your fav character with complimentary hugs. (That's if they will cooperate after I dragged them through this torture chamber of melodrama. Don't worry, the chocolate is a guarantee – virtually speaking :)**__**) My point is, you rock and I love you all!**_

_**Slight warning – this chapter contains some mature themes (and by mature I mean mildly sexual) Hey, with Neil's frank outlook, it was unavoidable, k?**_

**Disclaimer: Don't own it . . . wait, lemme just check . . . nup, still don't own it.**

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**Lust (Or, excerpt from The Gospel According to Neil)**

Despite what people say, I do think about topics that don't involve me. _Well_ . . . don't involve me at centre stage. _Well_ . . . they sometimes involve other people at centre stage. With me. Whatever. The point is, my topics can be very deep and meaningful.

For example, I am _very_ opinionated about relationships. To be more specific, relationships that fit into three categories; ones that involve myself and nearby reflective surfaces; ones that involve the celebrities I have to flick through in magazines to get to the beauty section; and the ones that take up my air space and are altogether impossible to miss.

Let's start with the obvious – Jay and Theresa. The noble hero, and the dramatic damsel. Classic Tragedy. Seriously, who needs Shakespeare and Brangelina with them around?

But monsters and prophecies aside, the Jaresa couple (ooh, I like that) are a pretty complicated mess. See, they spent their first two years of acquaintance in a "pre-relationship" stage that was just plain frustrating. Then, after your standard Jean Grey, apocalypse-nowish scenario (seriously, that's the only way _anything_ gets resolved around here), they were finally a couple. A couple who sometimes holds hands in public and have three minute quickies in the closet, when Herself somehow gets Himself forget momentarily about a certain egotistical god of Time.

_No_, I don't eavesdrop cause seriously, _eeeewww_. People just rant at me. Especially Theresa. Probably because she thinks I don't really listen. But I do, and I have to say I sympathise. I mean, I know I'd be a bit wary of – well, making the quickies longies, so to speak, if there was a strong chance the significant other I was with suddenly froze, uttered _"Cronus"_ in a deadly but very intense tone of voice, then pulled out his sword (the metal one) before charging into battle. Can you say, turn off?

I will now utter a despairing sigh, and switch to Topic #2. Which is of course, the Archlanta debacle (man, that sounds weird. Atlarchie? Nah. Double A? Sounds like a tragic cup size . . . oh, never mind).

_Any_way, this one isn't so complicated. I mean, the whole shyness/naivety/borderline-homicidal relationship they had going on get really old after a while, but at least when they finally admitted their undying love, they stuck to it. Of course, they bicker like an old married couple and display their affections like a couple of pre-schoolers, but that's their thing, you know?

And now, we move into the deeper, slightly bizarre territory. Odie, I have found, has a very chaotic union with his brain. (His libido is a different matter, since I know for a fact he has both a possessive beach-bunny goddess and a cute, repressed fifties chick on speed-dial, but that's beside the point.) For what I gather, he has an incurable lust for both what he can't have (i.e. power) and what he wants more of (i.e. freakish knowledge).

Don't get me wrong, he's a nice little nerd and keeps the lust under wraps but sometimes it leaks out at inopportune moments and gets us all in trouble (helloooo, Dedalus disaster and messing with time?) And then he gets all guilty and self-loathing. It's the very definition of a destructive relationship.

Then there's Herry. Big, adorable, hopeless Herry (for the record, I _don't_ call him adorable out loud). Thing is, he's the most well-adjusted guy out of all of us. He likes girls – a lot – but the only females who get any doting are an old lady with a serious 'tude and his precious truck. To be honest, I worry about the truck thing – it's not healthy to kiss your vehicle good night no matter how big and fast and shiny it is.

There _is_ a bit of an anger-management issue he could work on, but it's usually directed at the bad guys, so that's cool. Actually, Archie mentioned something about that too, but I guess his lust (love?) for Atlanta is stronger than his lust for slicing things. 'Sides, she's dangerous enough to satisfy both his sides: sappy and aggressive.

I think this contemplation is missing something . . . oh right, me! (I didn't _really _forget. I mean, seriously, who would?) Well, there's not much to tell that you probably don't already know. I'm a self-confessed narcissist – which isn't entirely my fault by the way – and with good reason. The most important person in my life is my mirror, who I have to have a good relationship with at all times or else my career would plummet, and maybe I should just check now to make sure we're still on good terms . . .

Yep, still BFFs. Always have been, always will be, no one else rates higher than little ole fabulous me . . .

Oh look, Jaresa just got back from a _ten minute quickie_, and judging by the general blushiness of both parties, they've probably graduated to bedroom quickies as opposed to the closet kind. Maybe there is hope for Tragic Love after all.

Hah, Odie just lost his zombie game to Herry. He _hates _that. Now he'd demanding a rematch, and Double A (if you get past the innuendo, it's really quite catchy) are barracking for either one just to annoy the other. Hmm, I could always just pick who I want to win and they will out of sheer luck. I know, unfair. But Odie's looking pretty desperate that his brains aren't backing him up and his desperation usually means a bad decision, so maybe I should pitch in a bit . . .

Hey, it worked. Either that or his genius suddenly pulled through. Ooh, he just gave me a weird look – sprung? I shrug innocently (I have a very cute innocent look) and he rolls his eyes. And sort of smiles.

Well, they're not fabulous. And nowhere _near_ top priority. But sometimes, my friends deserve the centre stage all to themselves.

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_**Thankyou all for reading! Au revoir for now.**_


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